


Little Wing

by 2space_lesbo1



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Canon Compliant, Drabble, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Short One Shot, i wrote this in five minutes, maybe??? idk, reuinion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-10-11 02:18:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17438039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2space_lesbo1/pseuds/2space_lesbo1
Summary: He remembers this man. This... Grayson.





	Little Wing

**Author's Note:**

> hey, i just got caught up with season 3 of young justice and oMG they actually added my BABY jason
> 
> and so yeah i had to write this
> 
> no idea where it happens, or why, or when. just really needed to write this ok

He halts his movements, his head exploding with pain. He staggers a moment, the hand holding his sword up falling to his side. The man he was facing once more- Nightwing, Gray… son. Grayson, Grayson, where does he know Grayson..?- pauses as well, watching as his opponent halts their fight. The sounds of the others battling around them rests just on the cusp of his hearing, but he didn't care at the moment. 

This was… Grayson. He knows- knew- Grayson. From Before. 

Before the Lazarus. Before being trained by Ra’s. Before joining his ranks of personal guards. Before, Before, Before. 

A foggy memory drifts to the front of his shattered mind- “It will heal once you remember,” Ra’s had told him countless times. “And you will remember once it heals-, and he focuses on it, momentarily forgetting the current fight. 

_ Nightwing- Grayson, Grayson,  _ Grayson _ \- was standing in front of him, a slightly different suit, a slightly shorter height and slightly less of a muscular build. He had one hand on his hip, the other held out to his side.  _

_ “Come on, Little Wing,” Night- Grayson said, a smirk tilting his lips upwards. “They're all gonna beat us if we don't hurry.”  _

_ He heard his own voice then, laughing, replying, like his brain wasn't shattered. Like he didn't have any plague in his mind. “Coming, Dick.”  _

Dick. Grayson. Grayson. Dick. Dick Grayson.  _ Dick Grayson.  _

The sound of metal clanging against is hardly heard by him as the sword slips from his grip, and his vision begins to blur, tears warm beneath his lids. He stumbles once more, and could just see the confusion growing on Grayson-  _ Dick’s  _ expression, even behind the mask. 

Another memory faintly plays, taunting him with past stability. 

_ Laughter and the thumping of feet on wooden floors. He was running, but not out of fear or for a lesson.  _

_ It was for play.  _

_ He could hear Grayson- Dick’s voice behind him. Ah. He was running from Dick. They were… playing, with one another. Tag…? Tag. They were playing tag. _

_ A moment later, and a hand is grabbing his wrist and turning him around to meet bright and gleeful blue eyes. “Gotcha, little brother!” Dick exclaimed, an infectious grin on his face. He seemed to relish in the word. Brother. _

Yes- brother. That was right. Brother. They were- are, brothers… Dick the older, him the younger. Perhaps not by blood, but brothers.

He knows that. He remembers that.

His lips tremble. Dick is watching him, still ready to fight if he were to attack once more. But why would he attack him anymore? They were… brothers. So, then, why was Dick attacking him? Doesn't he know that they're brothers? Had he forgotten him?

Another, cold memory resurfaces, dragging its freezing claws of terror down his spine.

_ Cold floor. Hard floor. Harsh, merciless laughter echoing above him. He hated that laughter. He feared that laughter. _

_ A foot stomps down between his shoulder blades, pressing him harder to the floor. The curved, metal tool which was covered in his blood appears in his sight, held loosely in his captor’s hand. In the monster’s hand. _

_ Not a human. Not a monster. A demon. He couldn't be anything else. _

_ An explosion. Heat. More pain.  _

_ And then merciful nothing.  _

He shudders at that memory, not finding it warm and wanted like the two before. He hugs himself, not even caring that he was leaving himself vulnerable to attack. He knows Dick wouldn't hurt him, if they weren't brothers. Even if he didn't know. Which he probably didn't. 

He probably thinks that he's dead. He was dead. Right? Yes. He was dead. But no longer…. yes, no longer. Ra’s brought him back. That's what Ra’s told him. 

But Dick must not know. 

Ra's didn't tell him. 

“The people from your past will know it is you once your mind is healed,” Ra's had told him, that familiar coldness in his eyes. He was watching him as he struggled to fend off the attacking ninjas, speaking casually. “Until then, you are to remain here, with me. Until you have healed. Until you can return to them.” 

He had agreed to this, because he didn't know himself. What was he supposed to have done? Argued with the man who had returned life to his veins? Seemed ungrateful. 

But now he remembered. Some. He remembered some. He remembers Dick. Not much else, but he remembers his older brother. 

“Are we done?” the voice jars him, and his eyes dart to Dick. He is still prepared, staffs held up in defense. His masked eyes are narrowed, feet spread apart in ready. 

He must not know. 

He doesn't say anything in response. What could he say? That he was… Dick’s little brother? His dead little brother? He's pretty sure that that wouldn't work. How would that work? He's dead. To Dick, at least. To everyone. Everyone except for Ra's. 

So instead he reaches a hand up, not missing Dick flinch, preparing for an attack. But instead he grabs onto his own mask, slowly pulling it off, feeling the cool night air hit his skin and touch his wet eyes. Feels his hair fall into his face and around his cheeks. Feels Dick’s eyes land on his own. Watches them widen. 

There's a sharp intake of breath, and now Dick is stumbling. He's dropping his weapons, and he could tell he too was being attacked by memories of the past. Of when they'd been brothers. Together. Without his mind in pieces. 

He does his best to smile, his lips trembling further. He hadn't smiled in a long time. Years? He hasn't smiled in years. It was strange for his lips and cheeks now, but he thinks he manages. 

A moment passes. Dick removes his own mask, his blue eyes wide with disbelief as he stared forward, his own lips beginning to shake. He took a few halting steps forward, hand reached out. But he stops midway, as though he believed he would disappear any second. Like he were a ghost. 

He might as well be. He had been killed before. He was dead. To everyone but Ra’s. And now possibly Dick, too. 

“Jason,” Dick breathed, and he can see the tears sliding sliding down his cheeks. 

Yes. Jason. That was right. He was Jason. 

Jason smiles at his older brother, Dick Grayson, Nightwing. “H- hey, Wingnut,” he stuttered, vocal cords unused to working. He hasn't spoken much in a long time. In years. “Long time no see.”

**Author's Note:**

> haHA i love writing character's with broken minds ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ


End file.
